


The Five(ish) Doctors Christmas Special! (with hobbits)

by valderys



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot
Genre: Gen, Humor, RPF, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wanted a sequel - so a sequel was greenlit.  But this time everyone wanted to help, the actors, the fans - everybody!  How does the Five(ish) Doctors Reboot Christmas Special turn out when it's written by committee?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five(ish) Doctors Christmas Special! (with hobbits)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mtgat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/gifts).



The jungle was minding its own business (well, the rainforest of Springbrook National Park, Queensland, Australia was, anyway) when there was a kind of wheezing, groaning noise and the TARDIS materialised out of the blue, slightly startling a somewhat nervous Mountain Brushtail possum (who should have been asleep being a nocturnal marsupial, but had eaten a dodgy acacia leaf the evening before). Slightly sadly for the friendly looking individual who strode from the TARDIS there was no one else to notice his arrival, so the gentleman looked somewhat crestfallen and a little hurt, as though he had great expectations for the world but was always in the end a little let down by it. The gentleman in question was wearing a cream frockcoat (slightly too small for him) with a piece of celery pinned to its lapel. Striped trousers, white shirt and a suspiciously cricketing-in-style jumper completed the ensemble. He was in fact the Doctor. Fifth of that name. (Although somewhat older in this incarnation than we might have expected, but that's ok, older is in - just ask Peter Capaldi.)

He was followed out of the TARDIS by his companion... ahem... companions, this was the Fifth doctor, after all. Or were they? The first man stepped out gravely, as though giving due weight to each footfall. He was dressed in a dark plain frockcoat and had a thin old scarf wrapped around his neck. His hair was curly (but not that curly) and his eyes were sunken and thoughtful. Apparently, work permitted his appearance, because this was also the Doctor. The Doctor in his Eighth incarnation, that is. The jungle observed him somewhat more closely than his fellow Time Lord since his appearance was rarer, his behaviour more unpredictable and presumably his fee much higher. (It's the BBC - it must get its money's worth.)

They were followed by a final shorter gentleman, in a cream jacket, straw hat and carrying an umbrella. He did the obligatory trip and catch as he stepped out, which caused Five to roll his eyes. At least he didn't raise his hat - until he caught sight of the Mountain Brushtail possum that is. After all, it always pays to be polite.

"Well?" asked Eight, in measured tones, "The danger must be great indeed for the laws of time to be subverted in this way - so many of us together. It can only happen in exceptional circumstances. The universe must be in grave peril."

"Feels like it happens all the time..." muttered Seven before smiling brightly in the face of Eight's bemusement. "Oh dear, this time I appear to have lost my sense of humour when I regenerated. Better than my marbles, I suppose."

Suddenly, there was a crashing noise in the underbrush and all the Doctors tensed before reacting in various forms of disbelief to the rotund, smiling individual in khaki shirt and bright red trousers who pushed himself into the clearing.

"About time you lot got here - I swear you'd be late to your own funeral. Funerals. Oh, you know what I mean!"

Eight frowned, "You look familiar. Aren't you...?"

"My name is Colin actually, although apparently I bear an uncanny resemblance to one of you, which might explain why this place was chosen - but I'm just an actor really. I was in the jungle filming _I'm a Celebrity_... Well, never mind that now." He seemed to swell with importance, but even more than that, with the longest speech so far in the script. "We need your help. It's the daleks you see - you have to defeat them, of course - but it's more than that, they seem to have discovered the secret to your regenerations..." He paused with a dramatic finger held up, his glasses winking on his nose. "They've poisoned you with a virus that goes backward in time!"

He waited for the music to swell in a suitably ominous manner. There was a full orchestra crescendo and Colin appeared rather impressed.

"Your twelfth incarnation has already been consumed by it and the one with the bow-tie will soon be next, if we don't hurry!" declared Colin.

" _Bow-tie_?" said Seven in disbelief, "Really?"

"And sometimes a fez," added Colin. "Although I gather my counterpart was hardly one to talk about sartorial choices. Pots and kettles, you know."

"You're a much more reasonable fellow than your look-alike, did you know that?" said Seven, and they beamed at each other in an overflow of jolly bonhomie.

Five cleared his throat, somewhat pointedly. He'd been overshadowed by more forceful personalities again - his Achilles heel. But he resolved to take back the limelight if he could. He looked into the distance, dewy-eyed, clutching at his stick of celery. "I have the cure. I know how we can save them. Me. I know how we can save _us_."

There was a pregnant pause.

Eight spoke up before things became too uncomfortable. "You know that they don't split the story into half hour episodes any more, don't you? There's no point waiting for the credits?"

Five looked mildly uncomfortable and distantly embarrassed. "Oh. Yes. Right then."

He waited another moment. "Umm. So what do they do instead then?"

"Running, mostly," said Eight, looking windswept, Byronic and considerably fitter than any of his fellows.

"Oh," said Five, disconcerted. He took a deep breath and his jumper swelled with determination as he looked around at his comrades. "Right then. Better get to that then."

Colin looked faintly green. "Can I eat possum's anus again? I think I'd rather..."

***

_Fast forward through considerable shenanigans in the jungle, including daleks with flamethrowers..._

"That's rather impressive," said Seven, looking wistful, "I wish Ace was here, she would have loved daleks with flamethrowers..."

_Fast forward through meeting the native species of this planet, here to help - although apparently they were popping over from the islands next door..._

"Halflings?" asked Eight in disbelief, while he watched a short so-called wizard covered in bird poo trying to herd a brace of Northern Brushtail possums into pulling a sled.

Seven was looking particularly twinkly and smug. "Well, the Tolkien estate would hardly let us use the word hobbit, now would they? Oh, whoops, did I say that, silly me..."

_Fast forward through all the running..._

"Heart attack... I can't go on... Just leave me," gasped Five, clutching at his chest, "Save the rest of us..." 

He was a rather scary purple colour. Eight looked grim (although that was quite a default expression for him, so it was hard to tell). "You're a Time Lord. You have another heart, now get up."

Just for a second the Fifth Doctor managed to look more murderous than he'd ever looked before...

_Fast forward through all the spectacular special effects, attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, c-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate..._

"It's amazing what they can do with technology these days, isn't it?" said Colin, "We'll be in 3D next."

Five was continuing to pout. "I still like the old wobble." 

They both contemplated that for a second before clutching their respective bellies.

"Maybe not..." murmured Colin.

***

The jungle was steaming. The Northern Brushtail possums were cowering. The Doctors and their companion, Colin, were captured, imprisoned in a wicker-work style cage made out of some sort of liana. The daleks were providing quiet menace, while Davros ranted. As a finale, it was all shaping up quite nicely really.

Seven fished about in his carpet bag until he found his thermos flask. "Tea?" he asked Colin.

"Don't mind if I do," replied the other, taking a comfy seat next to him in a handy picnic chair.

They watched as Five tried remonstrating with Davros and Eight attempted to pick the lock with his sonic screwdriver.

"Has anyone told him the sonic doesn't work on wood?" asked Colin.

Seven shrugged. "After his time, I expect. After mine too, but I'm Merlin, you know. Preternaturally wise. Prescient."

Colin snorted. "If you say so." He sipped his tea. "Do jungle vines count as wood then?"

Seven shrugged. 

They both looked over as the gloating began to run down. Five looked different somehow, more noble, with his trademark celery sacrificed for the antidote, his earnestness still boyish somehow, despite the added years. It looked like his rational arguements might have begun to win the day when...

"Quel dommage, Davros!" announced a new arrival, another middle-aged gentleman, it seemed the jungle was full of them. He had an over-excited manner, glasses and was waving around a device that hummed, fizzed and lit up. It looked rather like he'd found it on the floor at one of John Barrowman's pantomimes. "I am the Thirteenth Doctor and I'm here to rescue you all!"

"Oh dear," said Seven, "I have a bad feeling about this."

By mutual consent they began packing away the tea things, even as the jungle began to resound to the sound of pew-pew noises and the answering glare of the dalek's blasters.

Eight was glaring sternly at Thirteen who was manically unrepentant. "It's not a gun, it's a sonic! I would never carry a gun!" Another dalek blew up spectacularly. "It just acts a bit like one! Ooh, ooh, I know, I will rescue you all with the power of sentiment instead - I'm the oldest Doctor, so I must be the wisest and bestest and most beloved - ever! So naturally Davros, you will want to worship me when I turn into a Christmas angel...!"

Seven clapped one hand over his mouth to avoid giggling and other over his hat as he ducked to avoid dalek answering fire. Even as they began to run, in advance of the planet blowing up (probably), he could have sworn he heard a murmur that sounded very much like, "Except you're not writing it now, Russell..." But he couldn't identify who said it, however often he glanced back, because butter wouldn't melt in any of the Doctors' mouths, far too much practice. Seven smiled to himself. Five was looking _particularly_ serene today, he thought.

***

As the tinny sound of five(ish) Doctors and a number of hobbits carol-singing merged into the swelling credit music on the small screen in front of them, the producer sat back in her chair and looked over at the showrunner.

"Well?" she demanded, "What do you think? We had a much bigger budget for the sequel, as you can probably tell. What with the Kickstarter project, and all that CGI programming help - this really was done by the fans, for the fans."

She jiggled the littlest Time Lady on her knee until she squealed with laughter (although she was probably getting a bit big for that now).

Steven frowned. "I'm not sure I like the exploding attack ships. Bit too... gaudy for us."

Georgia flipped her blonde fringe out of her gimlet eyes. "You mean our effects are better than the Mill. You have no legs to stand on. Not since you copied the new title sequence from a fan."

"We paid him!"

"We paid ours."

Steven attempted conciliation. "I suppose it could be worse. Although, you know your Dad ripped most of the plot - a loose description - from Back to the Future? I suppose we should be grateful there's no Under the Sea dance sequence."

Georgia silently thanked god for editing suites.

"It's an homage," she said, firmly.

They stared at each other.

"Look," said Georgia, offering an olive branch of her own, "You know this saves you from coming up with yet another idea for a Christmas Special, don't you?"

Steven nodded. It was true. It was a lifesaver. A flashy, sentimental, over-the-top lifesaver.

"And everybody helped - it's not just Dad coming up with it all this time. So there are plenty of people you can blame... I mean thank."

Georgia smiled her wide, sweet smile and Steven found himself agreeing to broadcast with minimal editing. She could wield that smile like a lethal weapon. 

Picking up her handbag and child, Georgia headed for the door, before pausing for a second looking positively wicked. "And after all, it won't be considered canon - you can do what you like with the _real_ Thirteenth Doctor..."

She gave him a little wave which Olive copied and then she was gone.

Steven groaned and rubbed his forehead with both hands. He hadn't thought of that. Oh, the arguements that would be spawned, the controversy could literally last for _years_...

He sat up, feeling more cheerful.

Because, for once, none of it could be considered his fault. 

Brilliant.

Merry Christmas, everyone!


End file.
